


I Didn’t Peg You For That

by TeethFarie



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), Multi, Oral Sex, Pegging, Pet Names, Tenderness, inanna has conveniently left to visit wolf friends, soft Muriel hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeethFarie/pseuds/TeethFarie
Summary: Muriel’s never seen a shop like this, a shop so..adult, to say the least. His face burns looking at the displays and he jolts when the vendor points him out. “Don’t be shy! Pick your poison.”
Relationships: Muriel (The Arcana)/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 92





	I Didn’t Peg You For That

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh Muriel is one of the few fictional men that are the exception to my lesbianism.   
> Reader is gender neutral though has a vulva. I used anatomical language rather than gendered language for comfort!

The marketplace is buzzing with people, chattering and haggling prices. The sky is a bright blue and fluffy white clouds drift lazily through the sky. The smells of different food vendors and candle makers fill your nose, though you can’t make out a singular scent. You stick close to the wall, holding Muriel’s large calloused hand in your own. He casts a shadow over you, even with his shoulders hunched.

He looks nervous, though curiosity and excitement dance in his deep emerald eyes. 

Tucked away at the border of the marketplace is a small shop shielded with jewel toned shawls and emits a haze of cinnamon incense smoke. You’ve gone here a few times before and the vendor greets you with a toothy smile. Muriel keeps his distance.

“Ah, welcome, welcome! So nice to see you again.” The vendor leans against the wooden table, resting her elbows against it. “Looking for something in particular?” She raises a brow before looking past your shoulder at the tall man behind you. “Hm, perhaps something for two?”

Muriel’s never seen a shop like this, a shop so..adult, to say the least. His face burns looking at the displays and he jolts when the vendor points him out. “Don’t be shy! Pick your poison.” She chuckles and leans back. She’s already set an item aside for you, brown leather and carefully sewn straps that form into a harness. You beckon Muriel over. “Come, love, I’ll help you pick one out.”

Slowly, he shuffles over, tugging his cloak tighter around his body. He shifts his gaze over the numerous phallic objects, both glass blown and carved wood. “Don’t worry, the wood is sanded and coated, it won’t splinter no matter  _ how  _ rough you get.” The vendor winks and Muriel turns his face away from her. “Here, how about this one?” You ask softly, picking up a smooth, glass blown phallus. It’s on the smaller side and has an opalescent shimmer. 

Muriel doesn’t know what he's supposed to look for. “We’ll get a small one to start with, so it isn’t too much right off the bat.” You feel it in your hands, running your fingers along the grooves. “Feel it.” You press it into his hands and he nearly drops it. Perhaps glass isn’t the best idea…

As Muriel examines the one you handed him, you look at the wooden ones. One of roughly the same size catches your attention. It’s carved from mahogany wood and has a little more weight than the previous. Muriel sets the glass dildo onto the table with exerted gentleness. He flicks his hooded eyes over to what you hold in your hands. “How about this one? Not too big and it’s got nice bumps on it.” You guide his fingers over the smoothed surface and Muriel nods stiffly. 

“Yes. It’s good—sturdy.” 

You hold in a giggle at Muriel’s examination of the toy; it was as if he was talking about furniture rather than a dildo. 

“We’ll take this one.” You take the wooden phallus from his hands and hand it over to the vendor. She grins and wraps the purchases in off-white linen and ties it off with twine. A completely unsuspecting purchase. You pay her the respected amount and grab Muriel’s hand again. “Have fun, lovebirds!” The vendor calls and Muriel huffs quietly. You snicker and he squeezes your hand in his.

Really, it started with a little exploration. Muriel wasn’t too experienced in the world of sexual intimacy. He preferred not to reveal any past “flings” he may or may not have had, so you treated everything you suggested as a first experience.

After a little while, Muriel got more comfortable trying new things and you both discovered he liked  _ receiving  _ quite a bit. You had gotten a little ballsy and poked at his back door, and to your pleasant surprise, Muriel had wanted to give it a try. One finger turned to two, and then three, then he asked for a little more, which led you to the small shop in the marketplace.

Inanna has gone off..somewhere. Muriel informed you that she likes to visit her canine relatives, especially the pups.  _ Is that a thing _ ? You think to yourself. Part of you thinks that she just read the room and gave you both some privacy. It’s conveniently helpful, especially as you open the door to the hut and set the purchases aside. Muriel ducks his head and starts the hearth, building up the flames until they’re a steady crackle of orange and red hues.

You’ve taught him fire magic before, and you believe that Asra had as well, though you assume that Muriel just wants to show off. You had bought more body oil from the marketplace as well. You splurged a little on a higher quality oil and you’re glad you did when you pop out the cork and the intense smell of clove and the mellow undertone of lavender fills the air.

Muriel leaves his place at the fire and saunters over, watching as you plug the cork back in. A smile tugs on your lips and you lean your palm against his cheek. Muriel sighs into your touch. “Ready?” You ask as you stroke your thumb over his cheekbone, running your fingertips over the jagged scars that scatter across his warm tawny skin. He nods, slow as he savors the gentle caress of your hand.

“Do..do we get naked first?” Muriel’s deep voice breaks the silence with a soft rumble. Despite how many times you’ve gotten intimate, he tends to always look for guidance. A laugh bubbles from your throat, breathy and light. “I assumed so,” you slide your hands down his jaw, over his throat and to his shoulders. The muscle is taught and the skin warm. Muriel was like a furnace, emitting enough body heat to go without a coat most of the time. Often you’ll press your hands against his bare stomach when they’re cold and Muriel will snort and his face flushes a color like the petals of a Hazel Fay. 

“Let me help you.” You slide your hands under the cloth of his worn cloak and it slides to the floor with a sound heavier than you expected. You unwind the forest green scarf that wraps around his collar bone and set it aside. He’s worn the scarf more lately and it reminds you of the first time you met him; his hulking form caked in a mixture of fresh and stale blood, acting as a shield for something already gone. A shiver runs through you. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to recall that memory.

Muriel reaches his hands out and pulls at your clothing, lifting your top off your torso. You raise your arms to assist and he lets the cloth drop to the floor. You're naked from stomach up and Muriel still blushes, caught between staring and averting his gaze. “It’s ok, you’re doing good.” You take his hand and press his palm over the left of your chest. Muriel can feel the steady thumping of your heart, warm and alive. He sighs, deep and slow. The former gladiator rests his hands against you, lightly, as he leans down to tentatively press a kiss to your lips.

You push against him, resting your palm on the side of his neck, the thrum of his pulse against your skin. It’s simple and relished and you part with a dizzied breath. You slide your hands down, down, down, until you ghost over the band of his trousers. You look up through your lashes, a silent request.

He nods. “You can.”

You untie the strips of cloth he’s formed into a belt, pushing the tattered gray fabric down his hips. Muriel bites his lip, watching intently. You’re taking it slower than usual. He assumed you’d rip the clothes off of him, but he’s not complaining. Your touch sends fluttering heat through his body, and after so long of the bad kind of contact, Muriel would take what he could get.

He steps out of his pants and slips off his shoes. He’s completely naked in front of you, only a few articles different than before, but still a change. To your surprise, Muriel lowers himself to his knees, his head level with your stomach. It sends a flutter of arousal through you. He whispers your name, hands resting on your hips. “You can.” You repeat what he’d said moments ago with a smile, pushing your fingers through thick, shaggy hair.

Muriel hooks his thumbs around your bottoms, tugging them down carefully. He follows with pulling down your undergarments, his cheeks darkening when you’re finally exposed to him.

“Muriel,” you call, guiding his gaze up to yours. “I love you.”

He stares, awestruck, like he still couldn’t get used to hearing it. “I..I love you too.” He presses his stubbled cheek against your hip, nuzzling against you. “What’re you doing down there?” You quip, cocking a brow. Muriel glides his hands over the tops of your thighs. “...I like it down here.” If there was anything Muriel wanted to be, it was small. He’d wanted it since he was a young child, already towering over the other orphaned tragedies. Like this, he felt small in the best way.

You snort at his answer, lips curling into an amused grin. You card your fingers through his hair, unraveling the small braids. “What do you plan to do down there?” You muse, scratching your nails against his scalp. A low groan rumbles from the back of his throat and Muriel leans his head against your hand. “What do you want me to do?”

The mountain man looks up at you through dark lashes, pressing his thumbs into your inner thighs, squishing the flesh. You get the hint of what he wants to do, though if he’s too shy to outright say it or if he’s just teasing, you’re unsure. 

“You have such a pretty mouth, my love.” You run the pad of your thumb over his lips, pulling the bottom down to expose lines of teeth and pink gums. Muriel catches your thumb between his lips, sucking. Your breath hitches and a teasing look dances in his eyes. You hook your thumb on the corner of his mouth and he opens, exposing more teeth and tongue.

“You’d look even prettier putting that mouth to work.”

Muriel shivers and you pull your thumb out of his mouth, lightly gripping his hair. He sits on his heels and leans forward, dragging his tongue over your outer labia, his thumbs pulling to expose more of your vulva. You sigh, heart fluttering in your chest. He continues to explore, dipping his tongue between your folds and up to your clitoris. 

A jolt of fizzing pleasure drifts through you and your hands tighten in his hair. Muriel doesn’t seem to mind, one hand drifting to your hip, the other resting on your thigh and he wraps the lips you love so much around your clit. He licks over and sucks and a moan rumbles from your throat. “Good boy..” you purr, biting down on your lip.

You can’t help but rock against him and his thick brows furrow. His calloused hand moves from your hip to the small of your back, keeping you close and steady. Muriel is achingly aware of how hard he’s gotten, though it’s only second place in his mind. Your smell fills his nose and he buries his face deeper between your thighs. “You’re doing so good..my handsome man—all  _ mine _ ,” 

Words of praise keep spilling from your lips, and each one eggs Muriel on further. His jaw starts to ache after a little while, though he persists, eager to please. 

“Oh Muri..” you clutch the hair at the crown of his head tighter, grinding yourself onto his face. “Would you— _ hah _ —let me take the lead?” You ask rather than take, loosening your grip so he could pull away if he really wanted to.

Instead, he nods stiffly against you, moving as little as he possibly could. Muriel keeps his mouth open and sticks his tongue out, pretty and pink. You start to grind against his tongue, your breaths getting more ragged. Your palms press onto the sides of his head, guiding him into a position you like. The stoic man groans against you, sending pleasant vibrations through your body. 

Muriel slides his free hand down his body to his aching cock, wrapping his fingers around the base and quickly pumping. It causes more delectably pleasurable sounds to rumble from his lips, the knot in your stomach tightening. “O-oh! Ooh—Muriel,  _ baby _ , I’m close.” He blushes at the pet-name, darkening the already steady flush lingering on his cheeks.

He persists, staring you down with pupil blown eyes, keeping contact with yours as if to say:  _ do it _ .

Your hips stutter against his face, pressing down harshly on his tongue as you burst. You ride through your orgasm curled over him, holding his head in place, whimpering praises and sickly sweet nonsense.

Slowly, you pull away, legs like jello. Muriel’s panting, his fist halted around his throbbing cock. “Good boy.” You pet his head as your racing heart settles. “..was I really?” He asks after a moment, leaning into your touch. An airy laugh rasps from your throat in response, like he had told some kind of joke. “Of course! You’re a  _ very _ good boy.” You coo, lightly scratching his scalp. 

Muriel sighs, eyelids fluttering. He lives off praise, something he’d never gotten growing up. “Lay down, sweetheart,”

The mountain man obediently follows, making himself comfortable on the furs _ (and mattress you inevitably bought for him) _ . You fetch the pouch of goodies while you’re at it, carting it over with an eager grin. When you settle next to him, Muriel’s already sitting up to sift through the linen pouch. “Hey!” You lightly pat the back of his hand with a giggle, barely catching the smirk that tugs on the corners of his lips. 

“Let me take care of you.” You pull the pouch from his grasp and press a kiss to his lips instead. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it drives you mad. Muriel tugs you close, wrapping his arms around you like a security blanket. You part and he reluctantly unravels his arms from you.

With the bottle of oil in hand, you pull the cork with your teeth and spit it to the side, pouring a copious amount into your palm. Setting the glass bottle aside, you rub your hands together and spread the oil over his chest. Muriel watches intently, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“Doesn’t it feel nice?” You massage the skin and trace your fingers over his scars. 

“Yes..” he sighs, melting into your touch. Perhaps if he was fresher in your relationship, he’d be repulsed at the idea of indulging in things like this. 

You lean over and press a kiss on a particularly deep scar, relishing the gasp that leaves the man above you. You thumb over his nipples, rubbing around them until they peak. Muriel flexes his fingers, pressing his palms against the soft furs. The oil lingers on your lips as you press kisses over his broad chest. You’re tempted to lay your head against his chest and listen to the pounding of his heart, though you have more pressing matter at hand. 

Muriel widens his legs when you seat yourself in between, leaning back on his elbows. You rub your palms over the top of his thighs, massaging the taut muscles with the leftover oil coating your hands. “Ready?” You soften your tone and Muriel nods. “Yes, I’m ready.”

A smile spreads your lips and you guide your lover to lay his thighs over yours. The slick oil coats your fingers again before you press your fingers over his rim. You don’t push in, not yet, just circling the outside until Muriel relaxes. Despite doing this multiple times before, he still takes a little time to loosen the tension he holds; too many emotions swirling in his head-- more than he’s used to.

Slowly, you push your index finger in, keeping your eyes locked on his face to gauge his reactions, watch for any pain or other signals to stop. Muriel’s not a vocal person, yet his body language speaks loud and clear, even if he doesn’t want it to. You move your hand, slowly pumping your finger in and out in languid thrusts. His breaths get a little heavier, a little louder.

“Good?” You’re answered with a curt nod. You continue.

“You can touch yourself, I won’t tell you ‘no’.” You have the feeling that you need to tell him that, for some reason you can’t put your finger on. “I know.” Muriel answers swiftly, though he doesn’t make any moves. Maybe he just wants to lay back and enjoy? 

You arch your finger after a few more exploratory thrusts, searching for what will make it feel better for him. A shaking whimper passes Muriel’s lips in response when you finally find that spot. He’s nearly mortified of the noise he’s capable of making. 

“Can I add another?” Another stiff nod, his eyes clenched shut. “C’mon, honey, use your words for me.” You rub your hand over his hip bone, massaging comforting circles into the skin.

“..yes, please.” His eyes flutter open and his mossy green eyes peer down at you with desire. You offer a sweet smile and pour some more oil on your fingers, pushing in a second finger.

There isn’t as much resistance after that, he melds in your hands like putty. Slowly but surely, you spread him and draw ragged breaths and deep groans from him that fill the air almost as thickly as the clove body oil. 

Muriel lifts his legs to allow you more leverage, grabbing under his thick thighs. You scissor your fingers and press deeper, stroking along the inner walls to rub against his sweet spot. A deep rumble of something breaks your concentration.

“What was that?” You slow your movements just in case you did something he didn’t like. Muriel swallows thickly. “Harder, if you could.” The request sends a flutter through your body and you can’t help but oblige.

You keep a steady pace but use a little more force, pressing harder against his favorite spots. Quiet whimpers and whispered pleas drawl from his lips. You slide in a third finger, cooing praise and sickly sweet pet names.

“I-I’m ready...I want you.” The sweaty man whimpers, chest heaving and stomach lurching every time you press harder against his prostate, his heavy cock throbbing against his thigh. As much as you’d  _ love  _ to make a little more of a mess of him, you’re itching to strap the harness on your hips and try it out.

The noise that comes with pulling your fingers out of Muriel is one that makes him blush at the obscenity. You fumble with loosening the straps and buckles of the harness and your lover pushes himself up with a huff to help you into it.

“Aw, so sweet.” 

“You were taking too long.”

With the way Muriel’s hands ghost along your hips and rear, you think there’s more to it than just ‘taking too long’. “Y’know if you just wanted to feel me up you could’ve asked.” You tease, watching as he fastens the harness snuggly around you with ease. His lips purse and he grumbles something along the lines of: ‘Hush’.

You attach the dildo to the slot in the harness, giving it a few tugs to check if it stays. Satisfied, you place your hands on your hips and puff out your chest. 

“What’d you think?” 

Muriel skirts his eyes over your body, undecided where he wants to look. “Good. It’s good.” He lowers himself back down onto the bed, making himself comfortable on the furs. You lather yourself with the oil, getting a feel for the new appendage strapped on by your hips. When your attention is brought back to Muriel, he’s resumed the position he was in before, legs bent and spread.

“You’re so cute, Mer-Bear,” your voice is smooth and smiling as you coat his hole with more oil. “You..you too.” He grips the pillows above his head as you press the head of the dildo against him. “I-I mean, you’re cute, too.” Muriel corrects himself after the vagueness of his previous words.

With one hand holding the base of the wooden cock, you use your other and rub the pad of your thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. Muriel hisses through his teeth, rocking his hips into your hand. “Tell me if you need to stop, ok?” He nods reaching a hand out to grab your shoulder.

Slowly, you push in, inch by inch until you bottom out. Your hips press flush against his bottom and the back of his thighs. You grab the hand on your shoulder and pull it to your lips, pressing kisses over his palm as you continue to stroke his cock.

Muriel trembles, just barely, eyebrows knit together as he takes in breaths through his parted lips. “You’re doing so good, you’re my good boy, you know that right?” Praise spills from your lips as your lover adjusts to you—admittedly much bigger than what your fingers offered. The mountain man languidly nods his head, shifting his hips. 

You hold Muriel’s hand against your face, resting your cheek in his palm, moving the hand from his cock to his hip. “Say it back, won’t you? I wanna hear your sweet voice.” 

If Muriel hadn’t been in the situation he’s in now, he would have snorted at the thought of his voice being described as ‘sweet’. “I’m y-your...good boy..” It sounds as if it pains him to say it, strained and embarrassed.

Honestly, you didn’t expect him to comply and it sends a jolt of  _ something  _ through you. “That’s right,  _ my  _ good boy..” With careful movements, you rock your hips against him, pulling back just a little and pushing back in. A groan passes his lips, his hand pressing firm against your face, fingers brushing your scalp.

You grab the hand on your face, lacing your fingers with his as your thrusts get longer, pulling more out and pushing back in a little quicker than before.

“Does it feel good?” The sound of the squelching of oil and the  _ plap  _ of your hips against his heats your skin from the inside out, everything in you itching to move faster—to make the noises louder. 

“Y-yes, it’s good.” Muriel wraps his fingers around his cock, stroking in time with your thrusts. He widens his legs, tilting his hips up to meet yours.

You let his hand fall from yours and you grip his hips with both hands, partly to balance yourself, partly to gain a little more leverage as you fuck into him. Soon enough, you’ve found a rhythm and the small hut is filled with the delectable sounds of heavy breaths and groans. You keep your eyes trained on his face, watching every little nonverbal reply, every twitch of his brow and bite of his lip. 

A steady thrum of pleasure rocks through Muriel’s body with each thrust, filling his chest and speeding his heart. He leans his head back, swallowing thickly. Finally, you brush against his prostate and a sharp gasp tears from his throat. “There?” You pant, grinning as you bite your lip, heat rising to your face.

Muriel nods quickly. “Y-yes, there.” 

You focus the aiming of your hips to hit what makes him writhe under you. Once you know where it is, it’s easy to keep up. It gets him a  _ little  _ louder—not by much, but you can tell by his body language that he’s enjoying himself. You slide your hands from his hips to under his thighs, hooking under his knees to push them out of the way; well, you certainly tried, considering the thick muscle of his thighs.

Instead, Muriel wraps his legs around your waist, pulling you closer with a huff. This could work. It doesn’t give you much room, but he seems perfectly content with the tight grind the space allows. The tops of your thighs press against the bottoms of his as you lean over him, kissing over his broad chest. You’re not tall enough to reach his lips, but damn if it doesn’t stop you from kissing what you can. “Good boy, Muriel, you’re doing  _ so  _ good.” 

Your palms spread over his chest and rub over his nipples, teasing the surprisingly sensitive skin. He grunts, his hands finding their way down your back to pull you impossibly close. So close in fact you find yourself trapped. “Muriel, hun, I can’t move like this.” A light laugh bubbles from your lips at the situation, stuck to the former gladiator like glue. 

“Huh? Oh—oh!” Only now does he seem to realize the predicament, chuckling along with you. Warmth flutters through your chest. It’s gotten easier for Muriel to show emotion other than ornery and reserved; he laughs easier now and seeks out things that make him happy.

Muriel unwraps himself from you reluctantly, allowing you to push yourself up, still seated inside of him. “I’ve got an idea, wanna hear?” You don’t move, not yet. He stares up at you with a small smile gracing his lips. “What?”

Your grin tells him that it’s probably something reckless. “You should ride me.” You trace your fingers over his scars, gentle and kind, opposite to the raunchy request. Muriel furrows his brows. “I’d break you, I’m too heavy.” The thought of it still intrigues Muriel. He doesn’t often like new things, but it feels better when the new things are with you.

_ If I die, I die.  _ You shake that thought from your head. You have a feeling Muriel wouldn’t take it as funnily as it sounds in your head. “It’ll be fine, I can always use some magic to make you lighter if I need to.” He stares for a moment. 

“You can do that?”

“I do it all the time moving furniture!”

He thinks it over before giving a nod. “You have to tell me if I hurt you.” Muriel playfully rolls his eyes at how eager you seem, though it’s short lived as he shudders when you pull out of him. “You got it!” You make yourself comfortable on the furs, laying back and patting your thighs. “Ready?”

Muriel shuffles closer, straddling your hips and slowly lowering himself down. You help guide yourself back into him, patting his thigh comfortably when a sigh echoes from his lips. He shifts, not yet settling his full weight down, still paranoid of being too heavy. It’s deeper now than when you were on top of him; he feels fuller. “Good?” Your voice floods his ears and your hands are warm and soft on his thighs and hips.

“Yes..” 

“Do you need me to guide you?” 

“I’ve got it.”

For a moment or two, Muriel rocks his hips against yours, getting a feel for it before he lifts himself up and slides back down. His hands brace on either side of your head, his large form shadowing you and to you, it’s the best view on earth. A shuddered groan slips past his lips. He can feel you against  _ that  _ spot with more pressure now, an achingly sweet thrum of pleasure that quickly turns sharp the more he moves.

You can’t help your wandering hands as Muriel lightly bounces against you. You squeeze and grope everything you can reach before grabbing his cock and stroking him in time with the lift and fall of his hips. “If only you could see yourself, my love..so handsome.” You move your fist quicker, twisting your palm and rubbing your thumb over the head of his cock; everything you know he likes. 

Muriel’s eyes lock on yours, lidded and pupils blown. You can still see the ring of green behind the black pupils, soft and deep like rosemary and sage. He looks as if he’s going to speak, but his tongue betrays him. Though you can tell by the way he clenches his jaw, the crease of his eyebrows, and the tightening of his stomach that he’s close. “Does it feel good? Are you close, Muri?” You do the speaking for him, questions he can jerkingly nod at, his hair falling into his face.

“Go ahead, baby, won’t you come for me?” Muriel grinds down against you, a low whimper passing his lips when you press against his sweet spot. He rocks against it, chasing the sweet building pressure in his gut with both your hand and your cock. It only takes a few more jerks of his hips until he climaxes, splattering your chests in hot, thick cum. You stroke him through it, cooing praise and sweet words until he pushes your hand away with trembling hands. 

You help him off, surprised you didn’t need the lightening spell. Muriel sighs when he pulls off, suddenly empty but satisfied. He collapses next to you on the bed, feeling his heart thump wildly beneath his ribs. You take the moment to shuck off the harness, tossing it aside with the dildo still haphazardly attached. A feeling of drowsiness starts to build behind your eyes but you push it aside in favor of your lover, smoothing his hair out of his face and pressing a kiss against his forehead. “Is there anything you need?” 

“Just hold me.” Muriel reaches an arm out and you crawl next to him, wrapping your arms around him. He smells of the clove oil and salty sweat and his skin is warm against yours, albeit a little slick. “I didn’t wipe us off yet, though.” The sticky realization is starting to dry against your skin. With a huff, Muriel turns and reaches over the edge of the bed to grab whatever fabric he can find with the tips of his fingers and hands it to you. It’s your under shirt. Well, better than your outer shirt, and you can always wash it after a good nap.

You clean the both of you off, tossing the shirt aside and nuzzling your face into the crook of Muriel’s neck. “Was I ok? It wasn’t too much?” Your breath tickles his neck and a soft smile tugs at his lips.

“It was ok.”

“ _ Just _ ok?”

A chuckle rumbles from his chest and you can feel it against yours. “I liked it..it was good.” There’s a residual flush on his face and chest, fainter than before but it still glows against his tawny skin, shadowed with the orange hue of the dying embers flickering in the hearth. 

“We’ll have to pay that shop a visit again sometime soon. How about we build our own collection?” You’re getting ahead of yourself, but how could you not? Muriel deserves  _ everything  _ in your eyes, and you’re dying to pamper him. You curl your arms tighter around him, sheltering and safe as Muriel presses his nose against your hair, grounding himself in the familiar scent. “We’ll see.” He grumbles, soft and amused. 

You let your eyes close and you can feel Muriel’s breath steady against the top of your head, a telltale sign he’s fallen asleep. With the absence of calm voices, the sound of his thumping heart and the chirping birds outside the hut lull you to sleep

**Author's Note:**

> You’re lying if you wouldn’t let Muriel absolutely CRUSH your pelvis.


End file.
